Chapter 113: The Journey Home and Transformation

“Hehe, I won’t tell you. Once you retrieve that item, you’ll naturally know who I am.”

“If you want to know who I am, then work hard, my fellow countryman. Don’t bring shame upon yourself.”

“I’ll be waiting for you under the starry sky.”

“If I’m still alive, we should meet again.”

“Well, that’s all for now.”

“Until fate brings us together once more.”

The figure of the young man gradually faded away, the spatial bubble dissolved on its own, and the two items naturally fell onto the rocky post.

Verlin stepped forward and picked up the Druid’s Tome, only able to flip through the first few pages, while the rest remained inaccessible.

He then examined the seed shaped like a key, before placing it into his pocket.

“What a twisted sense of humor,” Verlin muttered, then left the cave through the entrance he had come from.

As he exited, he looked back to find the cave entrance had vanished, replaced by solid rock.

“First, I’ll fill in the entrance, then return to Starlake to study according to this book and see if I can truly become a druid.”

After spending the entire day refilling the excavated earth, Verlin fetched some water from the city well to cleanse himself, then lay down on a straw mat to rest.

At dawn the next day, Verlin led his crimson phosphor steed to the city to buy some provisions and set off.

As for the property and land deeds, Verlin placed them in a box along with a letter and buried it underground.

He likely would never return here again in this lifetime; consider it a mysterious blind box, waiting to see which lucky soul will claim ownership of this house.

Leaving Lando City, Verlin paused for a moment, donned his helmet, and set off toward the Kurze Province. It had been over two months since he left Starlake—it was time to return.

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Passing through the Kurze Province teleportation array, Verlin arrived back in the Kadro Province.

Returning here once more, Verlin noticed the city was noticeably cleaner, and there were far fewer beggars nearby. Whether they had been sold into slavery or “optimized” by the governor was unclear.

He did not linger long, buying some food before heading straight out of the city.

The closer he got to the border, the more desolate the noble estates became. The population was sparse, far worse off than when he first arrived two years prior.

“R-r-robbery!”

A few gaunt bandits appeared on the road, their faces so haggard that it was hard to distinguish gender.

“Are you sure you want to rob me?”

Verlin’s eyes locked onto the group, his aura as a high-ranking silver knight alone suffocating them.

“M-m-my lord, we… we d-dare not.”

Several bandits dropped to their knees, stammering.

Verlin glanced at them without making a move, patted his crimson steed’s rump, and continued on his way.

The aftermath of the famine priest’s curse left the nobles short of grain, unable to support so many people, naturally giving rise to many bandits.

It was an unfortunate situation—only time, perhaps two years, would improve it.

On the road from the provincial capital to Starlake, Verlin encountered no fewer than fifty bands of bandits, ranging from a few desperate souls to groups of two or three hundred, all looking half-dead.

Apart from a rare few vicious ones whom Verlin single-handedly wiped out, he let the rest retreat without interference.

Essentially, they were free men who couldn’t survive otherwise. If he tried to kill them all, it would take two months just to reach Starlake.

After five days, Verlin crossed the border and returned to his own domain.

Over two months, Starlake had nearly transformed.

Near the Kadro Province border, vast farmlands had been reclaimed, with many malnourished peasants tilling the soil, their faces filled with a longing for life.

Even the roads had been widened considerably.

Verlin recalled that when he left, the roads were barely two meters wide; now, they stretched at least four meters—more than double.

Returning to Starlake Town, he saw construction sites everywhere, with many shirtless young men laboring vigorously, and hardly any overseers in sight—everyone worked on their own accord.

“My lord!”

At the town’s garrison gate, two guards stood at attention, pounding their chests in salute.

Verlin handed his crimson steed to the gate guards and entered the garrison.

Compared to when he left, the town’s government staff had increased significantly, mostly new faces. Yet upon seeing Verlin, they all saluted, clearly having admired his portrait often.

“Where is Belder?”

After searching, Verlin found no sign of his steward.

“My lord, Lord Belder has gone to Orlando Town. He is expected back tomorrow morning,” a clerk replied respectfully.

“Tell him to come to the castle once he returns.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Verlin left the town garrison, mounted his horse, and rode to his castle.

Once back, he asked Kyle for a brief update on the estate’s development, which greatly exceeded his expectations.

First, Starlake covered 450 square kilometers of land, with the population having more than tripled. To manage this, Belder had to divert the surplus population to Orlando Town and the frontier areas overseen by Andrew.

As a result, the population under his command approached 80,000, nearly rivaling that of his uncle Orkot’s estate.

The influx required Belder to continually expand the militia, conscripting and organizing young men for land reclamation, road construction, urban expansion, and even clearing the waterways around Starlake. In short, there was no opportunity for idleness.

The provisions were straightforward: three meals a day, twelve hours of work, but no wages.

“How are the newcomers composed?” Verlin asked Kyle.

“My lord, from what I understand, among the newly added fifty thousand, about twenty percent are serfs, purchased by Lord Belder from bankrupt pioneers at low grain prices.”

“How many settler knights remain near the Kadro border?”

“I’m not sure of the exact number, but likely no more than five families, all on the brink of bankruptcy.”

Verlin stroked his chin, murmuring, “It seems that in the next ten years, no noble heirs will venture to settle here.”

Since a year and a half ago, Kadro Province had suffered repeated raids from small monster clans. The southern border was close to the provincial defense line; to the north lay the tense Ironforge Dwarven Mountain Kingdom. Coupled with the famine priest’s curse, it was unlikely anyone would come to settle here.

Yet this also presented an opportunity; his domain’s surroundings had remained relatively unscathed.

“If nothing unexpected occurs, this year I can initiate the noble title review and promotion. Within three years, I will claim at least ten thousand square kilometers of land, then pause to develop quietly, preparing for war with the Dwarven Kingdom in ten years,” Verlin mentally divided the coming decade into clear phases.